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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251704">Sanders Celeste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirema/pseuds/Lirema'>Lirema</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sanders Celeste [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Celeste (Video Game), Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:33:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirema/pseuds/Lirema</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With no hope of continuing his most popular web series and securing his own sanity, Thomas decides to take a breather by abandoning everything he knew for one trek up the mysterious Mount Celeste. Little does he know what peril the Mountain and his own mind has in store for him...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sanders Celeste [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s watching you, Thomas.</p><p>It’s been two years since he released the last episode of the Sanders Sides. A name that will forever be ingrained in his mind as a blot in his inked autobiography, a stain to his sanity. Every time he thought he’d forgotten about it, it’d give him unimaginable pain in his chest, as if he was suffering from a heart attack.</p><p>He never knew that would actually be the case.</p><p>Two years ago, when he was filming the next episode in his bowler hat and scaly makeup, he felt it. Just a lump in his chest, he presumed, or the costume. Until it got worse. Until the lump grew into a boulder. Until the excruciating tightness in his chest flowed up to his neck, as if he were drowning in air.</p><p>Then he passed out.</p><p>Then he...wouldn’t dare try to remember. All he remembers is a jolt. And the nightmares immediately afterwards. Choking him in his sleep. Teasing at his heart for it to burst. Every time felt so real. He can’t recall the dreams precisely, but he’s pretty sure someone tried to kill him in one of them. And then he tried to kill them back in the other. Or perhaps it was the same dream, god knows. All he knows is that he couldn’t sleep knowing that his heart was going to burst like...that, again. He tried seeing a psychiatrist. He tried medication. He tried shrugging it off and continuing his work filming. And for a time, it worked. His chest calmed down.</p><p>Until he put the bowler hat back on.</p><p>Until he saw a pale man in white watching him in his sleep.</p><p>His friends didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t tell if it was just the anxiety or something in his history. He wished he knew. Maybe then the violent jolt rushing through his chest wouldn’t sting every time he put that dang bowler hat back on. Maybe then he wouldn’t see this person watching him from the window of his room at night. What was it that made him so unnerved to put the hat back on? What was it that made Thomas so intriguing to stalk? Was it him...or the character? It couldn’t be trauma from the first heart attack...could it? He never knew.</p><p>So that’s why he cancelled the web series. </p><p>If he can’t play one character...he might as well not play any. He’d give all the costumes Joan made for him back, but they told him he should keep it. He insisted on taking them all away. Even the old clothes he used when the series started would be donated to Joan. They’d tell him they’re here for him. Thomas would tell him “I know”. His therapist didn’t think it was a big deal, but...he can’t bear to think about any of those characters anymore. Not when it gave him so much pain. The announcement was short, just a small tweet. The only tweet he would never look back to. He still continued to make videos, or at the very least try. It was his only safe zone from that man watching him. Without his friends, his career, the man would appear, sometimes outside, sometimes straight in front of his face, but always at night. He might pretend he’s asleep and keep his eyes closed, but he can just feel the man’s presence looming, breathing down his neck. His friends thought he was hallucinating, but they’d do their best to play their part and try to bring him back to reality with their filming. And even then that didn’t work.</p><p>Because he saw him last night during a livestream.</p><p>He needed to leave this reality. That was the only solution.</p><p>He never told anyone, not even Joan. He just packed up a giant backpack with his passport and drove god knows where. All the way past the border until he found a place to stay. A nice little hotel in Vancouver, he didn’t need anything too extravagant. It still didn’t work. Now the man was everywhere, in the street, at the grocery store, on a bench, breathing down on his neck once more as he drove from place to place.</p><p>“Have you tried climbing?” A hotel guest would ask on his way back to his hotel room from grocery shopping. The only person remotely close to a friend now was this random dark-skinned man in glasses, a little over his fifties, “There’s a lot of mountains here. No one trek is the same. Definitely helps clear some air.”</p><p>He’d raise an eyebrow, then sigh, “Why not? I’ve got nothing to lose.”</p><p>The man simply leans back, sipping some tea and staring at the ceiling.</p><p>“But where would I go? Which mountain would I choose?”</p><p>“Whichever. I’m not your therapist,” the old man teases with a laugh.</p><p>And so he’d drive late at night once again to the nearest mountain he could find. There was no point in relying on a GPS if he managed to drive this far from his house. Mount Celeste sounded like a good one. That is, until he drove past the ridge to the parking lot and it collapsed.</p><p>Guess there’s no turning back now.</p><p>He’s not sure where the trail was, so he’d heave his backpack and trek up the rocky plains to a small cabin where an old woman stood with her cane. As if she was waiting for him to show up. There’s a great big bird perched next to her, bigger than a raven.</p><p>“Excuse me, ma’am? Is this the mountain trail?”</p><p>The old woman sighs with a crooked smile, as if she hasn’t heard that question in a long time, “You’re almost there. It’s just across the bridge.”</p><p>“Cool, thanks.”</p><p>But before Thomas turns around, the old woman stopped him in his tracks, “I should warn you, Celeste Mountain is a strange place-”</p><p>He leaves before she can finish. The old lady simply chuckles like a witch as he spots a bridge above a wide and deep ditch several yards ahead. This must be it.</p><p>Just breathe, Thomas.</p><p>...Why are you so nervous?</p><p>One step on the bridge, and it crumbles behind him. He races against the dilapidated bridge, leaping over a small gap, leaping further over another, but just two yards shy from the end.</p><p>Until he feels his heart...jerking him to the other side. Some indescribable, automatic force of his own, turning his hair blue and giving him an extra boost to dash forward. He takes a couple minutes to catch his breath.</p><p>You can do this, Thomas.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Logic in the Forsaken City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If not for the blanket of snow, the empty apartments would resemble a city on a hill.</p><p>One deep breath from Thomas, but it’s not enough to take in the entire geometric view. Like a De Stiji painting stained in grey. It seems there’s no way across without climbing up, for while the steel pillars seemed structurally sound, the ground certainly wasn’t. Perhaps a nasty avalanche caused all these chasms...but if that were true, the buildings would be decimated along with the ground. Ah well. Probably best not to think about it too much, lest curiosity kill him. He takes another deep breath before leaping and climbing up a platform, about as tall as his room and as wide as his car. As he climbed further up, the weight of abandon hit him: the rusted billboards, the eroded cars that had become victims to vines, the sheer height of the unfinished apartments, almost as tall as skyscrapers. He had never seen something so undone, yet so beautiful. Like his life, he supposed.</p><p>A freudian slip, and an actual slip of his foot. The chasms were somehow bigger from above.</p><p>Keep climbing, Thomas. That’ll take your mind off of it. Yes, that’s all he needed right now. Not regret or guilt of leaving everything and everyone all behind, but a mere distraction. The further up he climbed, however, the more aware he became of the hazards ahead. He was quite high up...scratch that, he was extremely high up. He can’t even see the ground anymore. He can’t see his car in the distance either, that old lady’s cabin was only a tiny dot on the horizon. He’s lucky he didn’t fall to his death or the spikes that were all over the walls and the floor. Was this even real? That’s the first time he’d ask that. It certainly was real, he can feel how frozen the pillars are, chilling his hands even with gloves on. So why was it abandoned? How could anyone leave behind a sheer city, almost as big as Vancouver? The more he climbed, the more his curiosity grew. Until he sees a strawberry with wings overhead.</p><p>Now he knows he’s dreaming.</p><p>And yet, despite all his doubts, despite every fiber of his being telling him that it wasn’t real, his curiosity seemed to get the better of him. That strawberry looked so fresh, so big, so...rewarding. Once he touched it, however, it disappeared. Yet it felt so real, if only for a moment. Come to think of it, he thought he saw something red earlier, in a deep pit with spikes on the bottom. He backtracks a bit, and sure enough, there it was. A strawberry without wings this time, just floating above a bed of spikes. It’ll take some mental work to figure out how to get that strawberry, but if that’s what it takes to distract himself from the reality he left, from the man that was watching him, from everything he abandoned…</p><p>He’d be damned not to try.</p><p>One leap, one super dash, one wall climb back onto safe ground. He’d never felt more accomplished.</p><p>Eighteen more to go. </p><p>He’s not sure how he knows that. Perhaps it was just a voice, just a hunch. There’s bound to be some more hidden in cracked walls that he can burst through with his new powers or just beyond his reach. All it takes is a little logic. A little distraction, a little game to keep his mind busy from the weight of his guilt, whispering a new conviction in him.</p><p>He can never go back. Not until he reaches the summit.</p><p>As he collected strawberries one by one, the whisper would gradually crescendo into a roar. If he can reach the top and collect all the strawberries, he could do anything. He never felt so passionate over something so...gratifying. This was his first time climbing a mountain, and yet it presented him with a mysterious new challenge, a new quest, a new scavenger hunt to explore the rich deadness of the place. Who left these all here for him? Why here of all places? What secrets did the mountain have in store for him-</p><p>His heart skips a beat as he catches a glimpse of a man overhead, next to a broken airplane. It’s not the man who’s been stalking him, thank god, otherwise his skin color would be much lighter and he wouldn’t have a beard. He seemed to be about the same age as Thomas, too.</p><p>“Hellooooooo theeeeeeeere!” The man waves back, yelling against the snowy gale. Hm. It had been snowing quite a lot, hadn’t it?</p><p>Once he climbs down and reaches the man, his heart races. Sure, the beard was a bit much, but his soft eyes, his chocolate face, his stunning bangs flowing over his head against the chilling wind...That certainly warmed him up.</p><p>“You doin’ alright? Your face is all red,” the bearded man asks before shivering and muttering to himself how cold it is.</p><p>Thomas clears his throat and utters the first thing coming to mind, “Beardface floof hair make heart go boom boom.”</p><p>The man just deadpans and blinks before offering a hand, “Name’s Theo.”</p><p>He couldn’t take that handshake now, he thought, taking his hand. Stop staring so much and tell him your name, stupid.</p><p>“Tom-Thomas,” he blurts and stammers, then clears his throat again, “I’m Thomas.”</p><p>“Nice to meetcha, Thomas. Didn’t think I’d meet anyone like you out here besides Granny. What brings you here?”</p><p>A guy like him? Damn, Theo certainly had a way with-no, Thomas, he’s just referring to how dumb you look with your giant backpack.</p><p>“Oh, I’m just climbing the mountain, as one does...when they’re on a mountain…”</p><p>“For sure, man. YOLO!” He hoots.</p><p>God, his voice is so cute, “So, Theo...where’re you from?”</p><p>“Well, my inquisitive compatriot, I doth hail from the mystical, enigmatic kingdom of...Los Angeles.”</p><p>And a Cali guy with a dumb sense of humor like him? They were practically made for each other. He can’t help but chuckle. Consequently, he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the conversation. He’s quite relieved to find someone from the US, and a man with a humble InstaPix follower count of 53K, no less. God, this man had some photography talent. One more charming quality, and he just might faint.</p><p>“How ‘bout you, man?” Theo grins, “You have an InstaPix?”</p><p>His mind blinks. The weight in his heart drops a bit. He couldn’t possibly show him his reputation now. Not after…</p><p>If he hadn’t caught his breath, he would’ve been on the verge of a heart attack.</p><p>“Oh, uh, no. I don’t have a smartphone.” he lies, his heart sinking deeper.</p><p>“For real? Damn, just like her…”</p><p>“Like...who?”</p><p>“Oh, just an old pal of mine from Vancouver. You’re not crazy enough to reach the summit just like her, are you?”</p><p>“Actually...I am.”</p><p>Then, with a gasp from Thomas, Theo gravely clutches his shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.</p><p>“God bless you, man.”</p><p>“...I didn’t sneeze”, great recovery Thomas. Yep, he’s definitely gonna faint. This is what he gets for avoiding human contact for about a week.</p><p>And like that, Theo clicks back to his cheery self, “Take care man, nice knowing ya!”</p><p>“Y-yeah, nice knowing ya.”</p><p>But before he turns and takes a step away, he finally notices an airplane bended in half in front of them. His brain’s moving faster than his legs now, firing several questions like an AK-47.</p><p>“What...is that?”</p><p>“Oh, this old hunk o’ junk?” Theo says, knocking on the dead steel wing, “No idea. Perfect spot for selfies, tho.”</p><p>“What…what happened here?”</p><p>“No one really knows. My friend told me some big mega corporation wanted to make something big, but nobody wanted in. My theory’s still on a government cover-up.”</p><p>“That’s...unprecedented.”</p><p>“I know, right? Spooky, huh? Oh! Speaking of which, there’s some legit old ruins right above the city. Like, 1800s legit. It’s also super cool for taking selfies.”</p><p>“Man, you must know just about everything about the perfect selfie spots, huh?”</p><p>“For real, man. It’s wild.”</p><p>“Alright, then. Take care.”</p><p>“You too, pal!”</p><p>And off he went before he would let his brain process how foreboding Theo’s words were. Higher and higher, climb after climb, his wits and his strength would be tested by the mechanics of the city...and the strawberries plain in sight. One strawberry in particular proved to be quite the challenge, hugging a wall fifty feet across a bed of spikes. Sure, there’s a giant springed platform he could climb on to fling him straight towards it, but he’d have to be swift to hop back onto it before he can reach the top, as the ledge was protruding just a few feet past the wall with the strawberry, making it difficult to simply climb to the top. Perhaps he’s thinking too hard on this...or spending too much time calculating the perfect strategy to reach it. Ah, but much preparation would be needed, lest he fall to an eternal sleep on a bed of spikes. </p><p>Thirty minutes of strategizing isn’t so bad, right?</p><p>Well maybe...if he hadn’t said “screw it” after five minutes and just barely missed the jump back to the giant platform.</p><p>And yet somehow, when he fell...he’d be right back where he started. The death was so instantaneous, he barely even felt it.</p><p>So if he won’t stay dead...where was the danger?</p><p>He glances down again. Curiosity killing him. Oh, how he desperately wanted to test his hypothesis. While there was a tiny voice begging him not to jump down, the voice would ultimately be ignored by one step forward…</p><p>And again...he never felt a thing. Just warped back.</p><p>Now thirty minutes of planning would be overridden by thirty minutes of falling. If each attempt lasted an average of three to five seconds, then it must’ve taken him at least ninety tries to finally reach that tiny, voluptuous fruit and wall jump his way to victory. Completely unnecessary? Definitely. Instantly gratifying? Indubitably. With one hoot for victory, and 5 more to go, he felt like he was on a roll…</p><p>Until he finally reached the top where a giant tombstone twice as tall as him rests. His heart skips a beat at the engraving.</p><p>
  <i>- - CELESTE MOUNTAIN - -</i><br/>
<i>This memorial dedicated to those</i><br/>
<i>Who perished on the climb</i>
</p><p>His brain’s firing questions again...but after all that climbing and dying, he’s too exhausted to catch them. He’d have to table them for later, get a fire going so he can rest. It takes him a couple minutes-not nearly as long as that strawberry on the wall-but once it’s done, he sets his backpack down and pats it nicely as an impromptu pillow before leaning back. With a caw, a giant crow swoops down and perches himself daintily on his head.</p><p>“This might’ve been a mistake,” he murmurs to himself before nodding off, the snow dying down to a gentle whisper.</p>
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